er. "After all, what's looks? Looks ain't
everything."

His friend looked bewildered, and then started furiously as the meaning
of Mr. Russell's remark dawned upon him. He began to feel like a miser
beset by thieves.

"What age do you reckon you are, Bill?" he inquired, after a long pause.

"I'm as old as I look," replied Mr. Russell, simply, "and I've got a
young face. I'd sooner it was anybody else than Selina; but, still, you
can't 'ave everything. If she don't take me sooner than young Joseph I
shall be surprised."

Mr. Vickers regarded him with undisguised astonishment.

"I might ha' married scores o' times if I'd liked," said Mr. Russell,
with a satisfied air.

"Don't you go doing nothing silly," said Mr. Vickers, uneasily. "Selina
can't abear you. You drink too much. Why, she's talking about making
young Joseph sign the pledge, to keep'im steady."

Mr. Russell waved his objections aside. "I can get round her," he said,
with cheery confidence. "I ain't kept ferrets all these years for
nothing. I'm not going to let all that money slip through my fingers for
want of a little trying."

He began his courtship a few days afterwards in a fashion which rendered
Mr. Vickers almost helpless with indignation. In full view of Selina,
who happened to be standing by the door, he brought her unfortunate
father along Mint Street, holding him by the arm and addressing him in
fond but severe tones on the surpassing merits of total abstinence and
the folly of wasting his children's money on beer.

"I found 'im inside the 'Horse and Groom,"' he said to the astonished
Selina; "they've got a new barmaid there, and the pore gal wasn't in the
house 'arf an hour afore she was serving him with beer. A pot, mind
you."

[Illustration: "'I found 'im inside the Horse and Groom,' he said."]

He shook his head in great regret at the speechless Mr. Vickers, and,
pushing him inside the house, followed close behind.

"Look here, Bill Russell, I don't want any of your larks," said Miss
Vickers, recovering herself.

"Larks?" repeated Mr. Russell, with an injured air. "I'm a teetotaler,
and it's my duty to look after brothers that go astray."

He produced a pledge-card from his waistcoat-pocket and, smoothing it out
on the table, pointed with great pride to his signature. The date of the
document lay under the ban of his little finger.

"I'd just left the Temperance Hall," continued the zealot. "I've been to
three